


In a Heartbeat

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe - War, Anxious Georgi Popovich, Battle Couple, Battlefield, Best Friends, Friendship, Isabella Yang is a Good Girlfriend, Jean-Jacques Leroy Being an Asshole, Multi, Oblivious Yuri Plisetsky, Protective Nishigori Takeshi, Protective Otabek Altin, Soldiers, Supportive Nishigori Yuuko, Supprotive Mila Babicheva, Wingman Mila Babicheva
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 11:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11736579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There are two types of protectors on a battlefront: soldiers and doctors.One aims to kill; the other aims to save.At any cost.





	In a Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doodeline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodeline/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Flaming Red](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9822905) by [doodeline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodeline/pseuds/doodeline). 



> I have this strange, irrational fear when i write a story. I try to use a variety of characters, but I don't know how to write them so to ease my own anxiety: I have chosen some background characters that I'm comfortable writing with.
> 
> It may seem strange, but it freaks me out when I'm not writing for other characters. Because I want to give other characters spotlight, but I'm treading onto new territory and I'm not sure of where to go. But in its own strange way, it's fun to do that because I can establish a perception of the characters in a "fresher" way than what most would think. At the same time, I wonder if I'm making them too OOC for recognition and it eats away at me inside.
> 
> I guess it's that weird experience that you get when you're treading on "foreign" territory and you want to write something that people can relate to but at the same time, you wonder if you're holding yourself back because you're catering yourself to an audience and you don't even like your work.
> 
> Please, if there are people who relate, we should talk and get this stress off our shoulders.
> 
> And man, when I see people who update chapters with a huge word count, it throws me off my game. Like, "should my updates be long and tedious?" or "how long should a chapter be?" These are the questions I ask myself whenever I click on [new work] and I cannot describe, with words, of how large the draft-section of this account is.
> 
> So this entire thing will be purely experimental for me. Happy faces.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I have to be honest. I think about you a lot. In the morning, at night, in the middle of my day. It's always been you." ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key Terms:  
> -Barsan is a fictional, Middle Eastern country that has recently built skirmishes around its borders.

_ “Girl, you're everywhere in my life _ __  
_ I wanna know more about you _ _  
_ __ And every little thing you do

_ Girl, you're everywhere in my life _ __  
_ What do I do now? _ _  
_ __ You're the only one I think about”

\--Talk Love (K. Will)

 

The ringtone lulled in Yuri’s mind when he scrolled past a few pictures of  _ her, Mila Babicheva.  _ A close friend, even though Yuri rarely acknowledged that they had a friendship to begin with or some kind of “special bond”. None of that was true.

If anything, Mila was a sassy individual with her head in the clouds. Teasing Yuri to no end and personifying herself as his “big sister”. Heated debates and bitter arguments used to break out between them when they were younger, but the snazzy female always had her arms opened wide when Yuri ran in for an embrace. Just a few hours later. Tires of sulking, angsting over a situation he couldn't control. Wished he could've been here instead. Curled close to Mila and she would shush and whisper sweet things into his ear.

Things were back to normal afterwards. Until something new popped in, upsetting the delicate Jenga tower between them.  _ Yet again. _

Sprawled across his own bed, Yuri replayed his ringtone for Mila. It was damn catchy, too happy and cheesy, but every word and trill reminded him of her. Mila’s too big smiles and the sashay in her walk, pretending to be  _ Europe’s Next Top Model  _ before Yuri fell over and laughed on Skype, Hangouts, or whatever social media app they used to connect. The hopefulness in the singer’s voice reminded Yuri of Mila’s own, of how the young woman loved to belt out the chorus to her favorite songs.

The side-steps in her walk, how her hair occasionally grazed her shoulder, and the crop tops she at her disposal. Much to Yuri’s embarrassment whenever they went out in public. And Yuri would hide behind his phone while the  _ hag  _ dragged him all across Moscow like a damn tourist, but it was always enjoyable and Yuri usually did his best not to fuss.

But even with these memories, pictures, and a catchy ringtone, Yuri missed Mila.

He clicked on a selfie that she sent, a few years ago. Back when Mila was a budding nursing-student, back when Yuri was a freshman in college. Back then, Mila believed in all the things that adults say you shouldn’t believe in. Faeries, magic, fate, and destiny. All the  _ bullcrap  _ that adults say,  _ “You’re not an adult until you ditch those thoughts.”  _ Safe to say, Mila remained a child. Even after she graduated from college, even after she got accepted to a nursing school.

Back then, Mila had longer hair. Long enough where she could tie it into a messy ponytail, like how she used to do for Yuri. Slick, velvet glasses mounted to the bridge of her nose with a crooked smile to boot. More than enough to crack Yuri’s phone back then, but he found the appearance  _ cute.  _ Even  _ endearing,  _ if you had to question him about it. And stacked behind Mila were a few of her boyfriends-- _ i.e. textbooks.  _ An arm wrapped around a beefy “picture book” when she took and sent the selfie to a younger-Yuri, and the current-Yuri gave a tiny wave to a  _ much  _ younger Mila.

“Hey.”

A typical greeting between colleagues or  _ associates--if you wanted to get technical-- _ but between close friends, Yuri could’ve started with something obscure and Mila would know exactly what he was talking about. But he was staring at a picture of her, and he hadn’t mentioned her name in months. The twenty-two year old was suddenly shy with his words, struggling to spit out something to an old picture that couldn’t reply back.

Yuri tried again, with a heavy sigh.

“Been doing well, thanks for asking.”

Mila’s picture gazed back at him with a knowing-look. As if she knew something that Yuri didn’t, but the blonde seriously doubted  _ that. _ And after four years since the selfie was taken, Yuri was finally as old as Mila. The selfie-version at least

“How’s life in Barsan?”

A four year old picture couldn’t possibly reply to that, but Yuri felt an eerie reply. Maybe it was his imagination, but the blonde swore that he heard the ominous fall of foot soldiers on the Barsanian border as medical-volunteers and doctors scrambled across the desert. Hiking with bulky supply-kits, but the supplies were never enough. Not with ten to fifteen men and women, crawling out from the aftermath of an awoken landmine.  _ If lucky. _

Yuri rolled over on his bed. Pressing his phone against the bed covers.

Mila had told him before-- _ reminded him constantly through texts before the the dreaded flight-- _ that she was simply going to be a volunteer at one of the medical units. Located near the border of Barsan, up and close and personal to an intimate war.

People wondered if there was even going to  _ be  _ a war. Didn’t deter soldiers and volunteers from entering into the Middle Eastern country, putting their lives on the line for a skirmish that grew out of control. Like a desert storm.

“Please tell me that you’re safe.” Yuri tightened his grip on his phone.  _ “I miss you.” _

If only he could hear Mila’s voice. Hear her words, reassuring him with every step of the way. He wished he was brave enough to go where she was, taste the sweat and blood of the lives that guarded her and the rest, and experience a world that was very different from his own.

Yuri wasn’t brave to begin with.

_ “Search across the ocean~” _

Yuri swatted his phone off his bed. Heard it smack the floor with a low thud, his Hangouts ringtone blasted through the speakers. Yuri peered over his bed, watched a green circle grow and shrink across his phone’s screen. A demonic-edit of Mila smack in the middle, sticking her tongue out at him with a childish flair.

_ “For who you are, been lost for too long~” _

“Yuri?” In came his grandfather’s concerned voice, a floor below.

Yuri hollered over his phone’s ringtone.

“It’s nothing! Just Mila!” Yuri reached his arm and swiped the call option. A pixelated Mila splashed across his phone’s screen before the internet connection stabilized on her end. Pearly earbuds held together with duct tape poked out from her hair, slipping over her shoulder, and down to where her phone’s audio jack was. She gave a merry wave, a slight wink on her end of the conversation..

_ “Hi, my feisty cat.”  _ The familiar Russian accent touched Yuri’s heart.

He wanted to yell,  _ “I miss you, Mila!”  _ or perhaps,  _ “I hate this!”  _

Instead, he whispered, “I hate you, Mila.”

_ “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”  _ Mila batted her eyelashes.  _ “The greatest thing about being hated is that the giver always keeps you in their mind.”  _ She wagged a knowing-finger and Yuri hissed. Mila propped her elbows up onto the table in front of her, easing into a  _ purring  _ sigh.  _ “I missed you too, Yurio.” _

“Don’t call me that.”

Mila motioned a running-mouth with her hand.  _ “Glad we’re on the same boat.” _

Yuri picked up his phone before laying back onto his bed. Mila had shorter hair now. Trimmed back so far that her signature bangs were  _ more  _ than just lacking. Making her ruggish, easier to notice her undercut. Donned over her shoulders was a white coat, a tight sweat shirt underneath. Something Yuri wouldn’t have cared about if he was younger, but he averted his gaze.

_ “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me.” _

“Gross.” Yuri stretched the vowel. “You’re like my sister.”

_ “You finally accept me as your sister!”  _ Mila pumped her fist into the air, earning rolled eyes from Yuri.

“Here to piss me off?”

_ “And spend my only chance at wifi with that?”  _ Pause. _ “You know me too well,”  _ Mila said, tilting her head. Seeing her “little brother” better. Admiring Yuri’s bangs, probably reminiscing about how long her hair used to be. Mila leaned in closer to her phone.  _ “I’m coming home soon.” _

Yuri’s eyes lit up. “What?”

_ “There’s this list where you can sign your name if you want to go home. The list came around earlier this week, so I added my name.”  _ Mila spoke as if she was talking about the weather, but this was more important than the weather. After six months, Mila was finally coming back home. To Moscow, away from the desert sun. Away from warfare, gunshots, and smoke. Safe and sound in the heart of Russia.

It was almost too good to be true,

_ “When I’m back,”  _ Mila spoke first.  _ “Let’s go out somewhere.” _

Yuri cocked his head. “Like a date?”

_ “I guess so, but we’re ‘siblings’. Remember?” _

“Vaguely,” Yuri mumbled back. “When are you coming back?”

_ “Next week. Won’t stay for long, but it’ll be a good visit. You know?”  _ Mila had one of her chirpy laughs before she glanced over her shoulder. Yuri couldn't see who or what she was looking at, but he saw an outline of a soldier’s uniform. A tannish brown with pockets and straps down to the waist, a hint of a firearm poking up from a holster.

_ “Who are you talking to?”  _ A gruff voice settled in, speaking in English. A heavy, East-European accent smudged the soldier’s voice. Mila clicked on something and her conversation with the soldier was muted. Yuri squinted, trying to read the woman’s lips but Mila pressed herself against her seat. Sitting straight up and her phone’s camera only managed to grab the middle of her neck during the conversation. Leaving Yuri completely in the dark for about four exchanges before Mila unmuted herself. A fruity-tinge clung to her skin.

Yuri didn’t hide his smirk. “Lover?”

_ “Me and a soldier? Impossible.”  _ Even Mila didn’t sound convincing, and she  _ knew  _ it. Scratching the back of her neck, face growing ever darker with a lovely shade of red. Yuri didn’t back off with his teases, earning him a death-glare from Mila.  _ “I can always erase my name off the list, you know.” _

Yuri stuck his tongue out. “I know you wouldn’t.”

_ “Damn you.”  _ Mila yanked an earbud out.  _ “Cat’s out of the bag now.” _

“So, you  _ are  _ in love?”

Mila shrugged, but she didn’t meet Yuri’s eyes.

_ “I’ll tell you more when I come back. It’s late over here. Goodnight.” _


End file.
